The Only Voice Comin' Back is My Echo
by Jalista
Summary: Will's only echo was his voice. There was no one else answering his cries. No one there to help him, care about him. At least not anymore. Not since she disappeared. Not since he was left alone with only an echo of an Echo. A whole lot of fluff written while I was in a very mushy and sad mood. Not much is explained, cause it's straight out of my head. Rated M (13 ) for language.
1. By the Dark River

i"Take no notice of him, he's full of piss and wind."/i

Alright. That stung. It was true, but a little uncalled for. Will snarled and clenched a hand around one of the hilts of his knife. John had always been one of the more benevolent towards Will, among the Merry Men. He was sure it was part his good relationship with Fanny, part how he refrained from beating Wulf up when he pushed his tongue a little too far. But Locksley had John even calling him pissy. Suppressing a scream–too embarrassing to let everyone know that one little comment was digging so deep under his skin–he ripped his knife from the folds of his tunic and hurled it at a tree. In the dark, it looked like it had stuck perfectly between two bumps of bark. He stopped and stared at it as hard as he could, pretending that it had and that those two bumps were the eyes of Robin of Locksley. It was all he would deserve, the selfish, greedy bastard.

There was only one place that could calm him down, so he went there. The dark river roared at him, laughing at his weaknesses and inviting him to jump in and never resurface. Ever since he'd met Echo, he had loved rivers, because ishe/i had loved rivers. Everyone had always assumed that his long hours of brooding by the water was just him stewing over this or that, and he was fine with that, but he knew much better. It was the memories that made him brood. The time she'd almost broken his nose, their first meeting, their first horse ride together with her holding tight ti his waste. They should have made him smile, but instead they made him want to scream and cry and ibreak things./i He wanted her back.

It was all because of Locksley. First, his petty little tantrums had driven their–his!–father to discard Will's mother. Than, years later, he hadn't bothered to try and help when he had seen the two younger gutter-urchins being barraged by a group of his noble friends. Snorting like a bull in an effort to keep his frustrated yells away, Will picked up another sizable rock into the froth of the river. All Locksley's fault. Another rock flew into the water. He didn't save either of the people Will loved. A third rock, much larger than the others, splashed into the river with a sucking sound. There were no more rocks within grabbing distance, and Will was afraid if he moved he would go straight back to the fire and kill Robin then and there. Brother indeed.

"Echo!" he cried it just loud enough so that its sound would bounce off the trees and the small walls of the canyon the river was carving. "Echo!" Slightly louder this time. His voice, frustrated, upset, furious, echoed back much weaker. God, he missed her. 


	2. Can't Think, Can't Think

**I never said I wasn't gonna prattle on and not stay on track... Well, this is just some more Fluff. I can totally see Will drinking way too much and then trying to hash it out with Robin while he can't think. I would have liked to go more in depth but my muse failed me halfway through. It was calling for more romance.**

Maybe he'd drunk a little too much. The ground kept weaving around him, even though he knew he was walking perfectly straight. The world was a bit blurry, too. The red-haired tyrant stopped, swaying like he was on the deck of a ship. Why was the ground moving so much? He tipped this way and that, one arm out and moving in a slow-motion quest for some tree to lean again.

Then he saw Locksley. The weightless feeling he'd been experiencing just seconds before vanished, to be replaced by a burning white anger that reddened the edges of his vision. Lurching forward, the very intoxicated Will Scarlet snarled an incoherent challenge at the larger, older Robin. Fingers fumbling for his knife, he tried to explain to Robin how very much he hated him. He wasn't sure how much of it actually came out, because the cocky little bastard just stared at him with one hand raised in what might have been a warding off gesture.

"You know what really rankles me, you cocky ass? Is how you seem to just follow me around ruining my life. My mum didn't deserve any of the shit you shoved on her, and now she's dead. Fever, of all things. You go around looking for pity because you went off to a war and came back to find your dad dead and think you're life's so hard..." he paused. Even in his deeply brainless state, he knew that he was hopelessly intoxicated and had no hope of getting across his feelings. He'd forgotten what he was talking about anyway.

Lifting a shaky finger, he pointed threateningly at Robin's face.

"We'll finish this later." he growled. Turning on his heel in a less-than-graceful fashion, he stocked off back towards the fire. He had no idea why he'd ever left. There was still drink to be had!

Will could barely think. His head pounded savagely, so terribly relentless it made his eyes hurt. Flopping an arm over his forehead to try and block the light, he groaned. He could scarcely remember what had happened last night, though he had small flashes of pouring out his heart to Robin and hen falling off of the seating logs. He had to stop drinking so much. It really was not good for him.

"Will! It's time to hunt! We and Much is going, remember?" The rustle of his door flap being lifted was enough to make Will want to scream, and Bull's voice wasn't much better.

"You can shove it, remember? I am never getting up." Flipping over, he buried his head beneath his arm.


	3. There's Another Voice Now

**Yeah this so makes no sense. But it was so fun to write. If you readers out there actually like it and would want it to turn into a full-fledged story, I could definitely do it. C: Thanks for persevering through this prattling!**

Wulf dashed into the camp, looking terrified. Will glanced up from the stick he had been idly whittling and cocked an eyebrow at the young boy. It couldn't be anything bad if he was unhurt. John, who had been sitting by the dead fire too, stood up.

"Son? What's happened?" he sounded alarmed, but Will didn't have it in him. Not when Robin was the one leading the expedition. Anyone stupid enough to follow that selfish man didn't deserve safety.

"We saw this boy just wandering around and Robin thought that we could recruit him but then I spotted a dagger hidden in his clothes and it was encrusted with diamonds and the like so we knew he was a noble so we swooped in but then he started flipping and jumping and he ripped Bull one and Much went down with one kick and now he's got Robin pinned against a tree with the dagger at his throat! I'm smart and knew I couldn't take 'im so i decided it'd be best to-"

Flipping through the air? Single, knockout kicks? A diamond embedded dagger? Will shot to his feet, startling the two Littles back slightly. John eyed him suspiciously–he had sensed his deep hatred for Robin the first night and was obviously worried he was going to stop them from helping.

"Tell me, was this boy real skinny and tiny, with grey eyes and light hair?" Will's eyes were intense as they burned into the much smaller Wulf.

"Yeah, Will. How'd you know?"

And for the first time in the history of the Merry Men, John heard Will Scarlet laugh a real laugh. It was not sadistic or derisive. It was disbelieving and joyous. He was frozen by the shock of it as Will spun around and dashed off through the trees in the direction Wulf had came.

He wasn't silent, he wasn't careful. He cracked every stick, leaped every log in an overzealous bound, panted like a hound on the hunt. Like all the nights he'd drank too much, like all those nights before his mother died while he was with her, he couldn't thin for the happiness in his heart. It was beating again. She wasn't dead, she wasn't gone.

Luck brought him to the right clearing where Bull was cautiously circling the extraordinarily agile boy, Much was still on the ground out cold, and Robin was trying to smooth talk his way out of being stabbed. He barreled straight across the ground unchecked, letting out a childish squeal he couldn't regret at that particular moment. The boy whirled, eyes wide, just before Will crashed smack-dab into him and they both went flying. Will crushed his lips against the smaller mouth, part of him laughing at how strange it would look. This was no boy! This was Echo!

Pulling back after one brief taste of heaven, he grinned down at the winded woman beneath him. She was staring at him with wide grey eyes, looking pissed off and happy at the same time. She laugh-snarled and pulled him close again, heedless of the confused crowd gathered around.


End file.
